Dariel's World

Hi. I'm Dariel Raye, an interracial/multi-cultural paranormal romance, urban fantasy, and action suspense author, and every day of this journey is a learning experience. I'm also a counselor, musician, and animal lover. My stories are about all-conquering love and romance, and I enjoy hosting other authors as well. Enter a world where werewolves, vampires, multi-shifters, vamp-like Nephilim, Vodouin Fey, and all things paranormal capture our hearts...

You might also like to visit my website.

Sunday, February 26, 2017

"Jack The Anthropophagite (Reaper Series Book 3) by Blak Rayne





Jack the Anthropophagite (Reaper Series Book 3)

Tagline:

Jack will eat no fat but will devour lean.’

BCB:

While drifting from town to town, Zeus and Brody meet Mr. McMurty, a generous widower in need of help. In exchange for a place to stay, they agree to do odd jobs around his farm.
Then one rainy night, Zeus notices a man standing outside the bathroom window. Brody searches the property but finds no trace. Zeus is certain of what he saw, and he’s certain their peaceful stint is about to come to an abrupt end.

Excerpt:

We returned to the farmstead, showered and put on clean clothes, and packed our duffel bag. It was still raining when we left, and the daylight had sunk into a murky haze. Brody exited the house first, and I don’t know why, but again a real uneasy feeling filled me. As I reached back to pull the door shut, a loud bang echoed off the house and blood exploded from Brody’s left shoulder. The subsequent chain of frightening events happened in slow motion: the impact twisting his torso unnaturally, blood flying past his fingertips.
I couldn’t expel any noise from my throat, and I couldn’t move.
For a fraction of a second, time froze.
Then everything began to move at normal speed once more; Brody grabbed his shoulder, ducking for cover, and hollered, “Run!”
I instantly sprang to life, my heart pounding. I dropped the duffel bag and jumped over the veranda rail to land on the uneven ground below. And that’s when I saw Jack standing in the meadow in front of the McMurty house. Rifle aimed, the pasty scarecrow fired another shot. I cringed, covering my head. Brody dove for the veranda and counter-fired with one of his M9s.
I couldn’t go back inside the house. I had to get to the truck like we’d planned. The main highway ran through the town ten miles away, and it was our only means of escape. Thirty yards dead ahead, nestled on a slope, was the barn—a creosote-stained wood structure commonplace on the prairies.
Soon as I heard Brody shout “Don’t stop!” I sprinted in that direction past the shed, fruit trees, and chicken coop. The daylight was almost gone as I came to a halt at the side of the barn. The gunfire had ceased. The only noise was that of the falling rain. Panting white into the air, I peered around the edge of the building. Cold droplets fell into my eyelashes and slid down my nose. I began to shiver.
Mr. McMurty’s truck was an additional thousand yards away—a dangerous distance where I’d be left wide open to a bullet. And where is Brody? Staring at the blackening sky, I bumped the back of my head against the wall with clenched teeth. Damn it, think!
I sighed in defeat. With no other option, I had to make a run for it. All I could hope was that the encroaching night would camouflage my movements. I zipped my jacket to conceal my bright red T-shirt. But just as I went to run, someone clamped a hand over my mouth, giving me the scare of my life.


Author Bio:

Blak Rayne is an author of gay romance. She loves to write and believes it’s one of the greatest forms of self-expression. What better way to see inside the human soul? Blak Rayne resides in Canada, and yes, she is a woman, wife, and mother. She’s been writing and drawing since elementary school, and she loves anything that involves the arts. As for family, her daughter is her toughest critic and greatest support!

Blak Rayne
‘Taking erotic to a sinful new level.’

Visit her online!

Amazon: Blak Rayne

REGULAR FACEBOOK
FACEBOOK FAN PAGE




Also By Blak Rayne

The Ideal Side of Love
The Ideal Side of Life
Carson’s Story

Older the Better
The Jock
Tease to Please
Turkish Delight
Put Your Ho Ho’s On

Reaper Series
Kiss the Reaper
Maximum Kill
Jack the Anthropophagite


Sunday, February 19, 2017

"The Velvet Chair: Velvet Lies Book One" by Christina Mandara

tvc26

The Velvet Chair is Book One in a Dark Erotica Series called 'Velvet Lies.'

Blurb

My name is Mark Matthews. I own half of London, and the part I don’t own, I’m working on.

Life was all going swimmingly well until Michael Redcliff entered my life, demanding that I marry his daughter. Actually, swap demand for blackmail. He’s got goods on me that I want no one else to see, so for the time being I need to be his little lapdog.

I’ll marry his daughter. I’ll give him all the status, money and power he can handle... for as long as it takes me to get a divorce. You see, I can’t renege on our little arrangement – but she can. I give her a week. One week and she’ll be screaming the place down for her legal counsel.


Excerpt - Jennifer

sexy blond in beige silk dress sitting on the black armchairMy hands were visibly shaking. Flexing my fingers repeatedly, I tried to still the tremors, but they were not to be subdued. It was hardly surprising. Today was the day I walked up the aisle and married… a monster. I was under no illusions that Mark Matthews would forgive me for what had happened, and I could hardly blame him. He’d been manipulated and sexually tortured until he could take no more, and then he’d been neatly cornered. He might have agreed to my father’s demands, but he’d come snapping and biting, feral as a wolf.

 I sighed. Today was supposed to be a magical day – every little girl’s fantasy. A gigantic cathedral, a sea of flowers, a big fancy dress, and the man of my dreams. I’d imagined it would be filled with tears of happiness and protestations of love. How stupid was I?

 Inhaling a shaky breath, I wondered what Mark would do with me. Having always been the sacrificial lamb in this family, today I was being sent off to the slaughterhouse. When I’d mentioned this to Michael, I’d refused to call him ‘Dad’ a long time ago, he’d laughed and told me to stop being so melodramatic. As if that made me feel any better. Dear old Dad couldn’t care less whether I lived or died, so I didn’t waste my breath trying to plead with him. All I had to do was play my part in this charade and he would be happy. I needed to keep Michael happy at all costs. The trouble was, in order to play my part, Matthews had to trust me, and I had a feeling that trying to coax that emotion out of him was going to be almost as impossible as trying to convince the Queen of England to relinquish her throne. Matthews wasn’t the sort to trust easily, and now that I had lost what little ground I had gained with him, I would be back to square one. Wrong, I thought grimly. I was going to be at least twenty stories below square one, trying to claw my way out with nothing more than my bare fingernails. Facing up to facts, I stifled a sob. The man was going to annihilate me.



Excerpt - Mark

As we pulled out of the Savoy’s car park, Jennifer was a mess. I had little sympathy for her. Each heartbeat that tore through my chest was full of fire, which spat sparks and burned like acid. I was sitting next to a traitor. My body throbbed with emotion, and not the good kind.

I had to admit the dress she’d changed into, just a tiny part of the massive trousseau that was now being shipped to my estate, was rather distracting. It was designed in a glistening oyster silk that caught the light every time she moved. It was seductive enough without the two splits that ran up the side of her thighs, and when she’d seated herself in my car, revealing a vast expanse of soft creamy flesh, my blood pressure had taken a direct hit.

 My temper was already simmering in a large saucepan full of resentment, but that turned up the heat considerably. I did not want to be attracted to Redcliff’s daughter. I wanted to abhor her with all that was holy. Desire would weaken my anger, and that must not be allowed to happen. I needed to have a stern talk with my overactive libido and let it know who was boss around these parts.

Little did Miss Redcliff know, but she wouldn’t be requiring clothes for the duration of her stay. I would thoughtfully be providing her with all sorts of novel uniforms, and when she began to bore me, she could just go around naked. I’d decided to train her up to be a sex slave extraordinaire, and it was going to be an exacting and rigorous process. She’d be allowed six hours of sleep a day, and the rest of her hours would be accounted for. Cooking, cleaning, ironing, servicing me, pleasing me, attending to her own personal fitness regime, and some more ‘standard’ training sessions.

Failure to comply with her new routine would produce punishments the likes of which she had never experienced. After her first misdemeanour had been dealt with, I didn’t think there would be many more. I was in bastard-mode, and the girl was going to know about it. She had just become my property and I would deal with her however I saw fit. The mark of my ownership would be indelibly printed on her soul by the time I’d finished with her. The damn woman was going to fear the sound of my footsteps, her body would shrink away from me every time I approached her and she would learn to obey my every whisper or suffer the consequences.

My lawyer had already drawn up two sets of papers, one for an annulment and the others pertained to our divorce. It would probably take all the fun out of the arrangement if Jennifer opted for an annulment, so I didn’t intend to scare her witless in the first few days, but I fully expected the divorce papers to be completed inside of a week. I just needed to push the woman to her absolute limit, and then smash her body into the next dimension. If there was one thing I was good at, it was psychological and physical torture. Okay, so that might be two things. In any case, I’d get those papers signed, sealed, and delivered back to Michael Redcliff before the week was out. Piece of cake.

  tvc30

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A little bit about C.P. Mandara:

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Christina Mandara is a USA TODAY bestselling author and tends to write dark romance with lashings of kinky naughtiness. Her favourite pastime is travelling, and if it involves sun, sea and… sand then it’s all good. In her spare time she’s usually cuddled up with a good book, exploring the countryside or baking in the kitchen. In fact, she loves her kitchen so much she’s one of few woman who wouldn’t mind being tied to it! Her first and foremost love is writing, however, and more often than not you’ll find her on a laptop spinning tales of romance, erotica or dark, paranormal fantasies. She's a big fan of BDSM in all of its glorious forms, and her favourite item in the toy closet (a box simply isn’t big enough) is her riding crop.

Amazon Author Page: http://author.to/CPMandara